Once Upon a Hetalia
by DeerstalkerDeathFrisbee
Summary: Wizard Arthur Kirkland had the perfect life, alone in the woods practicing magic with only the unicorns for company. Until the King calls in a favor and sends him on a truly ridiculous quest, that is. Now Arthur has to deal with monsters, dragons, and a very beautiful, very annoying, very FRENCH princess. And people say heroes have it easy... UK x Fem!France
1. Chapter 1

Prologue: In which three Kirklands blow up a piece of public property

"Dad. Dad! DAD!"

Arthur Kirkland winced at the sound of the small fist banging on the door of his magic room *ahem* study. He didn't respond to the entreaties, hoping his daughter would give up and leave him alone until the encantation he was working on was done. It was very delicate and would spontaneously combust should his hand move even the slightest fraction during the process….

Thud, thud, thud.

"DAD! I know you're in there! There's weird purple smoke coming from under the door!"

Crash.

KA-BOOM!

Arthur blinked rapidly, trying to dispel the sparks dancing before his dazed eyes. What just happened? He wondered fuzzily as he peered owlishly up at the set of faces bending over him. Why am I lying on my back in the middle of the outer courtyard? He pondered the feeling of cobblestones digging into his spine with a feeling of trepidation.

"Hiya, Dad! Why'd you blow up the magic hut?" Arthur's daughter, Amelia (although she preferred the nickname Allie) stared down at him, blue eyes wide.

"Are you okay, Dad?" the other set of eyes staring down at him asked, concern coloring the soft voice.

"I'm fine, Matthew," Arthur grunted, allaying the concerns of his son, and Allie's twin.

"You don't look fine," Matthew pointed out.

"Yeah, your hair's on fire," Allie pointed out helpfully.

"What?!" Arthur squawked, surging into a sitting position, ignoring the black dots swimming in his vision at the sudden motion.

"That doesn't look like normal fire," Matthew said, trepidation creeping into his violet eyes.

"Huh," Allie wondered at the sight, "You're right, it's kinda greenish."

Arthur was not comforted by the thought that his hair was burning or that the fire in question was green. "It's GREEN?!" he demanded, leaping to his feet (almost falling over as dizziness threatened to overwhelm him, not that anyone needed to know that) and dashed over to the nearest horse trough to peer at the small green inferno that was attempting to consume his blond hair. Without hesitating, he dunked his head in the trough, only coming up for air when he was certain that the prickling, burning sensation on his scalp had faded into watery oblivion.

He jerked his head from the trough and scrubbed at his face with his hands, trying to clear his vision. Instead he simply got the soot that had covered his palms in his eyes, making them burn. It was through watery eyes that he observed the smoldering ruin of his 'magic hut' as Allie had called it.

"Mom's gonna be pissed." Allie whistled through her teeth.

Matthew nodded agreement, clutching his familiar tight to his chest. The miniature polar bear struggled against the rough treatment. "Who are you?" It demanded.

Matthew furrowed his brow and looked down at his furry friend, "I'm Prince Matthew Bonnefoy-Kirkland," he insisted, "We've been over this a million times, Kumajiro!"

Kumajiro did not seem convinced. Then again, in the year that he had been the Prince (and more importantly, wizard-in-training)'s familiar, Kumajiro had not appeared to be capable of saying anything other than 'Who are you?' and those few syllables he only bestowed upon Matthew.

Arthur sighed. Allie was right; Franciose was going to be pissed. For a moment he wondered if perhaps he could get away with covering up the fact that he had once again reduced a piece of palace property to a smoking crater. Perhaps some illusions would work? No, the smoke column alone would take massive amounts of energy to hide and there was little doubt that someone had already seen it and tattled on him to his wife. She would be here in a few minutes, royal fury and all.

That left the wizard (and royal personage-by-marriage), only one option. He eyed his children. Eight-year-old Allie and eleven-year-old Matthew eyed him back with varying levels of sympathy for his current position. "What did you want me to do?" Arthur asked, hoping it would be long, involved and hopefully keep him away from Franciose's wrath until she had calmed down.

Allie drew herself up with an attitude of incredible self-importance. She lifted her little chin in the air, blowing her wavy blonde hair out of her face, rather ruining any attempt at dignity. "You promised you'd tell us the story of how you met Mom. So, tell us."

Matthew was nodding, the strange corkscrew curl of blonde hair which sprang up from his bangs bobbing with him. "Please Dad," he asked sweetly.

"Come on, no one will tell us!" Allie's face was plastered with the pleading puppy-dog look Arthur had never been able to resist. When she saw him hesitate, she pressed the subject even harder, "I wanna know how you became Queen!"

Arthur winced. He hated that title. "You know how." He reminded his children. "The law of the land says that Hetaliaonia must always be ruled by a King with royal blood. I'm not technically of royal blood. Your mother was the Crown Princess and was therefore of royal blood. The King does not legally have to be male, so she became King and I became… well… not King," he finished lamely.

Allie made a face and even Matthew looked discontented with the summary. As usual, it was Matthew who sealed the deal for the begging children. "If you're telling us a long story, Mom will leave you alone until she's not mad about you blowing the castle up again."

Arthur grimaced, "I did not 'blow the castle up' I simply detonated a small, fairly important part of it. It's why she won't let me set up a permanent structure for my magic anyway, people keep interrupting me during delicate spells, and unfortunate accidents continue to occur."

Allie raised an eyebrow. "You keep telling yourself that, Dad." Her expression shifted to one of eager anticipation, "So, story now?"

Arthur sighed. He had known from the start that he wasn't going to win this argument. "Yes, story now."

"YAY!" the kids exclaimed, even mild-mannered Matthew getting swept up in his sister's enthusiasm. They each grabbed one of their father's sleeves and dragged him into the castle, eager to finally hear the tale of how he met their mother.

The trio settled in front of a roaring fire in the library. Arthur was seated in his favorite armchair, embroidery in hand. Yes, embroidery. Real men sew. Matthew and Allie were curled in the armchair opposite him. Matthew in the process of attempting to sit as far away from his over-excited sister's flailing limbs as possible. Allie was… well… flailing.

"Sit, Allie," Arthur ordered; a tone of command in his voice.

Allie sat. She knew her father had been a pirate once, and she could tell when he was using his 'captain' voice. But the temporary resurrection of Captain Kirkland was not enough to keep her excitement fully at bay. "So, are you gonna tell us?" she demanded.

Arthur raised his bushy eyebrows at her, peering over his embroidery hoop with green eyes that sparkled in the firelight. Sadly, the thick eyebrows had escaped the green fire unscathed, although his wild golden hair was a few inches shorter and rather singed around the edges.

He rested his sewing on his lap and looked each of the twins in the eyes, "Fine, I'll tell you. But, I'm changing all of the names, and some of the facts. Deal?"

"No deal!" Allie exclaimed, looking irate.

Matthew sighed, "Dad, we'll be able to guess who everyone is, anyway. Just stick to changing some of the facts."

"Mattie!" Allie protested, but the quieter sibling silenced her with a look. Her face soured slightly and she examined her toes as she mumbled, "Fine, just change the facts then."

Arthur smiled; glad to have won something at least. "All right, once upon a time there was a beautiful kingdom known as Hetaliaonia. It was a very happy place, ruled by a jolly and good king name Romulus. King Romulus had one daughter, the lovely Princess Franciose who every Prince from far and wide was madly in love with. Or at least in love with her rich kingdom and smoldering good looks. Her personality was something else all together…"

"Dad!" Allie protested, "Stop being snarky and get to the point!"

"All right, all right," Arthur laughed, and continued, "In fact, there was not a single man in all the land who would not have happily married the Princess in a heartbeat. Except for one. The solitary wizard, Arthur Kirkland. He wanted nothing more than to be left very much along, thank you. He had no need for friends, or kingdoms, or Princesses. He just wanted to live in his little cottage and be comfortably forgotten about by all. However, this was not to be for poor Arthur. No, very soon he would find himself dragging into a quest completely against his will and was soon to become very much entangled with both the Princess and the Kingdom…"

**Author's Note: Here it is, one of my first attempts at a multi-chapter fic. I love this story, and believe me, there is a lot more in store for these characters in the future. And yes, there are Nyotalia characters mixed in with the Hetalia ones! I love the Nyotalias and think they can be really fun when blended with the Hetalias, so here they are! I hope you liked it, please REVIEW! I LOVE CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM! Thanks, see you next time. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 1: Why Unicorns are the World's Worst Pets**

_Twelve years before the Prologue…_

Arthur Kirkland was trying to become invisible. It wasn't working out very well. The problem was all these bloody unicorns! They just kept wandering over, chirping in their sweet, high-pitched voices, "Morning, Arthur, what're you doing?"

He would respond with a glare but it didn't seem to deter the horned pests. Obviously they had too much purity of spirit to realize that his glower spelled their imminent doom.

"He's trying to be invisible," one of them stage-whispered to a new-comer. Of course the stage-whisper was so loud it rattled the branches of the tree Arthur was trying so hard to blend into.

"Really?!" cried the new-comer, "But that sounds so _boring_! You should come play with us instead, Arthur!"

Of course the rest of the unicorns thought this to be a simply smashing idea and took up a chant (as much as unicorns could chant, their voices sounding like softly chiming bells, after all). "Play with us, play with us, play with us!" they demanded.

The sound of a footstep crunching into a dried leaf brought Arthur to full alert. He froze and pressed his back even harder into the tree. His heart hammered in his chest, threatening to escape his ribcage and go dancing around the forest floor. He muttered the words to his invisibility spell over and over again, fingers flying as he sketched the runes in the air in front of him.

The unicorns, upon hearing the intruder, did _not _flee or attempt to turn invisible like any sensible creature. Instead, the ridiculous animals gave a happy cry of "Maybe _he _can play with us!" and, instead of dashing off and leaving the wizard to his invisibility project, grabbed his sleeves in their teeth. The young wizard soon found himself hauled out of his hiding place and his illusion spell shattered. The enthusiastic unicorns paid no attention to how angry their golden-haired friend had become. Oblivious to his steadily mounting rage, they merrily dragged him through bushes and briars, giggling all the way about how fun this all was.

It was not fun for Arthur Kirkland. Not in the least. While the journey was nothing but a blur of waving green branches (all of which seemed to take it upon themselves to smack him in the face before disappearing behind them), the ending was most definitely memorable. And painful. Before he could register much beyond the sudden appearance of a clearing up ahead, Arthur found his unicorn escorts skidding to an abrupt stop. Unfortunately for him, his body did not come to a halt with his frisky friends. Instead, Arthur found himself flying through the air, sleeves tearing as his arms left the unicorns' grips.

Thunk.

Pain blossomed from all of his joints at once, a lovely symphony of bruising to match the steady pounding of his rising headache. Blinking, disoriented, and distantly wondering why his face was buried in a pile of leaves, Arthur did not expect the tight grip on the back of his collar, nor did he anticipate suddenly leaving the ground in said grip. Blinking owlishly, eyes still a little fuzzy from the sudden impact, Arthur attempted to focus in on the hulking figure that was currently gripping the back of his cloak's hood.

Enraged blue eyes stared back at him, stabbing his soul with little needles of azure ice. Okay, maybe letting his eyes focus wasn't the best of ideas. Arthur was suddenly wishing desperately for his vision to go out. He could be struck blind for all he cared, he just wanted away from those eyes.

The mystery man's lips were compressed into a thin line of disapproval, as if he had already seen everything he needed to with those piercing blue eyes, and was gravely disappointed in what he had found. "Are you the Witch Arthur Kirkland?" his voice was gravelly, each word cut off sharply as if he really would rather not be wasting time producing sound when he could be doing other fun things like pounding Arthur into the forest floor. The young wizard suddenly had flashbacks of growing up with his brothers. Shudder. Those were not particularly pleasant memories.

Still, this grumpy… freaking huge (how were Arthur's feet off the floor when this guy was still looking _down _at him? What kind of giants was the King hiring these days?), monolith of a person had just called him a _witch. _Did Arthur _look _like a witch? No, no he did not. He looked like a _man. _Like a wizard of distinction and class. A gentleman wizard. Who just so happened to _choose _to live in the woods. In the middle of nowhere. Like a hermit. Or some sort of half-wild crazy person… Still, it didn't matter if his home was a bit… austre. He was not a bloody witch!

Drawing himself to his fully height (a gesture that was, admittedly, somewhat lost as he was still dangling from the fist of the blue-eyed giant), Arthur addressed this character with all the courage he had. Which, at the moment, did not feel like much. "Who the blazes are you calling a witch, you monolithic git?! Do I look like a shodding witch to you?"

The giant, whose hair, Arthur observed distractedly, was slicked back from his face, forming a severe blond ridge along his hairline while the rest of it hung down his back in smooth, pale waves, was unimpressed by Arthur's show of bravery and bad temper. "You are Arthur Kirkland." It wasn't much of a question. Arthur wondered how such a terrifying person could manage to have such girly hair and _still _be a completely terrifying individual.

"In theory." Arthur ground out a response between clenched teeth.

"Then your presence is required at the palace immediately, Witch Kirkland. You will come." Again, none of the words coming out of the blond giant's mouth were particularly question-like. Arthur was starting to feel a bit concerned that he wouldn't be able to wriggle out of this one the way he had skipped out on the last three times the king summoned him.

Attempting to regain control of the conversation, (as if he had ever really been in control of this particular discussion), Arthur cleared his throat, "Very well, good sir. If you would just unhand me and allow me to collect some things from my cottage…"

Blondie nodded, and set him down. Arthur felt infinitely better now that he was on his own two feet, on solid ground. He turned to go, but felt the solid weight of one of those giant hands fall on his shoulder. He stopped immediately and looked back at the man behind him. Arthur had been right about the man's height. He stood at least a head taller than Arthur, and Arthur was not particularly short. Those blue eyes, which never seemed to stop being angry, stared furiously into his soul for a moment. "We will go together," came the giant's solemn pronouncement.

Arthur ground his teeth. Fine, he would just have to ditch this lug the hard way. Plastering a smile across his face, he lied through clenched teeth, "Of course, anything for the King's emissary."

To say the walk back to the cottage was uneventful would be a monstrous, terrible, lie of epic proportions. As soon as they were out of the clearings, safe into the woods Arthur knew so well, he let loose a flurry of illusions. Confident in his own security, Arthur slipped away from his guard and dashed off into the trees. Only to be stopped thirty minutes later by an irritated blond, who Arthur took it upon himself to hex into a sneezing fit, then escape from. He was caught later that time, which just gave him more time to concoct ways to slip the noose and the blonde more time to contemplate how to catch him when he did sneak off. This game of catch-the-wizard continued all afternoon and into the evening. It was fairly exhausting.

Blondie seemed to give up once it grew dark. Shoulders slumping in an exaggerated gesture of defeat, he turned back north, toward the castle, and began to trudge back to the nearest main road. Arthur sent fairies after him to track his progress and make sure he was truly leaving, not just trying a feeble attempt at tricking the young wizard. Despite the fairies' many assurances that the blond thug was well and truly gone, Arthur still slept in a tree that night. He even woke up every few hours to change trees just in case someone figured out where he was sleeping and came for him.

Arthur did _not _get a good night's sleep that night.

….

"Arthur, Arthur, KIRKLAND!" hissed a tiny female voice in Arthur's ear. The young wizard, previously asleep, sat up with a groggy jerk, biting on his tongue before he could manage to yell something unintelligible and thoroughly embarrass himself in front of the little red fairy perched on his shoulder.

"What," he sighed instead, rubbing a hand over his weary eyes, fingers trailing down his tired face.

"He's back." The fairy informed him.

"Shit!" Arthur snarled, struggling into a standing position on the tree branch so he could peer over the forest's dense foliage. Muttering a short incantation, Arthur changed his vision to make it sharper and clearer, picking out the light glittering off of the shields of a distant army. Arthur choked back a yelp as he dropped back onto his haunches on the tree branch, glowering at the fairy who had so kindly neglected to mention that Blondie had brought the_ entire bloody army _with him this time!

"Red," Arthur said warningly, but she cut him off before he could reprimand her.

"Oh, and that guy… y'know for earlier. He's here and he brought an army. Personally, I think his is bigger than ours, but we'll beat 'em anyway."

"With what?" Arthur hissed, "As far as I know, I'm all the army we've got."

"Hmmm," the little fairy put her head to the side, one finger on her lips in an exaggerated motion of 'I am thinking deep thoughts and you are not'. "Then I suppose you should probably do what he wants," she advised.

Arthur groaned, "Some encouragement you give."

The fairy completely missed the sarcasm in that sentence. Instead she grinned, blushing hot pink, "Well, we try. For you." She examined her shoes, peering up at him through her cherry-red bangs.

Another groan of exasperation slipped form Arthur. There was nothing for it. If he fought right now, he's probably destroy the forest and hurt a lot of his friends too. They had to live here, after all, and who knew what would befall all the nature spirits living around him if he blew up a chunk of their home…

So, feeling very long-suffering and noble, Arthur surrendered to the army and the blond. By noon he was in the throne room of the royal court of Hetaliaonia, waiting to pay his respects to a king that had thus far done nothing but get on his nerves.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Two: The Frog Princess**

Arthur was thoroughly uncomfortable standing in the empty throne room, staring at all the opulence around him and feeling more inadequately dressed by the minute. His rough green tunic, tan trousers, leather vest and cloak had seemed perfectly acceptable back home. Hell, the blond thug who had kidnapped him was dressed in something similar. But somehow, Arthur got the distinct feeling that the king that typically sat on that golden jewel-encrusted monstrosity of a throne would not feel so accepting of Arthur's chosen attire. That alone grated on Arthur's nerves. He _hated _the thought that people were watching him, judging him here. Even the servants were better dressed than he was, whispering behind their hands and snickering as he was hauled to the throne room, flanked on either side by near-identical blond giants.

Arthur flicked a glance at his babysitter/jailer. The elder blond had abandoned him to this one's care as soon as they reached the throne room. That conversation, if it could be called one, was short and simple.

"_I am Prince Folkert, brother to the king." The first blond giant introduced himself, "This is my son Ludwig." _

_Blond Giant Junior nodded gravely; so far he had not spoken. He looked almost identical to his father, with the same blonde hair slicked back from his high forehead, and piercing, suspicious blue eyes. The only real difference between them was the fact that Ludwig's hair was shorter and he looked to be about Arthur's age._

"_Ludwig," Folkert instructed, "Do not allow him to wander. And try to keep him away from the Princess." _

"_Yes sir." Ludwig saluted. Folkert saluted back and strode out, telling Arthur over his shoulder, "Wait for the King to arrive." _

_Arthur had nodded, already sizing up Ludwig and wondering how he could possibly get away from him. _

Now, two hours later, Arthur was bored to tears and hadn't been able to escape Ludwig. No matter what Arthur tried, nothing seemed to faze him. Ludwig simply ignored or gave monosyllabic responses to attempts at conversation. Teleportation was not an option for Arthur, there was enough silver and iron in the room to dampen his abilities to remove the possibility of sudden escape. Arthur was fairly sure that the castle had been built with that in mind. Who would feel safe if there was always the chance of a teleporting wizard assassin showing up at dinner?

So, Arthur sat, cooling his heels, and slowly dying of boredom. Finally, he heard the distant clatter of footsteps and the chatter of voices. The king? Did he finally remember that he had had a wizard kidnapped today? Arthur vaguely wondered if the king had to keep a ledger or a diary documenting that sort of thing. Did he write things like _'Remind my big, hulking brother to snatch a few wizards from their homes today, and don't let him forget to get a good wizard. That last evil one was a complete disaster. Wanted to redecorate the castle in black and purple with severed heads as accents'_? Or did he refer to such business as 'aggressive recruiting' or something else suitably public-relations friendly? Arthur supposed he would never know.

Although he did know one thing, and that was that the voices coming from the passageway behind the throne were _not _male and certainly not the king's. They sounded young, and female. This assumption was confirmed when two women appeared in the doorway (it was supposed to be hidden, but Arthur's magically enhanced senses could feel the passage behind it). One woman tall and slim, with long golden-brown curls piled into an elaborate updo atop her head. It was all held in place by a delicate golden tiara. This must be the princess Folkert mentioned. The woman next to her was shorter and curvier. She had rich, dark curls and moved with a practiced, sensual grace. Both were beautiful. Both were dressed in silk and velvet split skirts as if they had come in from a light ride, their clothing both elaborate and elegant and worth more than Arthur's house. Both were so far out of Arthur's league it wasn't even funny. And still he couldn't take his eyes off of the one he assumed was the Princess.

Spotting him and his babysitter lurking by the doorway, wicked smiles flickered across their faces. The dark-haired one slunk over to Ludwig, calling, "So, Luddy, what have you got here, hmm? _él es tan guapo, ?no?_ _Pero, un parte de la cara de él es un poco raro…"_

"Isabella." Ludwig acknowledged somewhat frostily.

She gave a small playful cry of joking hurt, "Ludwig! You hurt me right here, en _mi corazon_!" she place a hand over her chest as if her heart were actually breaking. "So_, que es esto_? And don't play strong and silent with me, _hermanito, _spill to Isabella, who is this guy?"

"This 'guy' has a name," Arthur growled, ignoring the look Ludwig shot him which clearly said 'Do not engage'. "I am Wizard Arthur Kirkland. And what the bloody hell were you saying about my face?" he demanded.

Isabella clapped her hands with delight, "_Muy bien, _you speak my language. I am the baroness of a very obscure part of the kingdom with its own native dialect. It is always so lovely to hear someone understands me! You are just too cute!"

_Who made her a baroness, and what were they drinking when they did it? _Arthur wondered, looking her up and down. He was so distracted by the delighted 'baroness' that he didn't' realize the other woman had snuck up on him until he felt her running a hand across his back.

"You are right, Isabella, he is just too cute." The voice next to his ear was warm and soft. The touch of her breath against his ear made Arthur flush, red trickling up his neck. Her laughter nearly gave him heart failure. "So you're a wizard, hmm? And what brings you to the court, Monsieur Wizard? Just who _are _you?" she murmured into his ear.

Enough was enough. "Get off me!" Arthur yelped, leaping away from her touch, brushing off his clothes as if he could get every last trace of her touch off of him by the gesture alone. When he looked back at her she was pouting and laughter was lurking in her eyes. Her eyes… they were large and violet and the most beautiful things Arthur had ever seen. He could drown in those eyes and go a happy man.

"It would seem we need a bit more evidence before we know enough about you, Monsieur Wizard. And if you won't tell us… extreme measures must be taken." Her pout turned into a smirk.

Arthur swallowed nervously. He opened his mouth slightly to speak, but was silenced by the princess grabbing his hair and kissing him full on the lips. Ludwig started to yell, and Isabella laughed and Arthur wondered if it were possible to die of both pleasure and mortification at the same time.

When she finally released him, she drew back with a smirk already stretched across her lips. "A kiss tells you everything you ever need to know about a person, no? And now I know _everything _about you." She winked. "Good luck with my father, you're going to need it, as blustery and high-strung as you are, he'll walk all over you. See you around, cutie." With another wink, she sailed out of the throne room, Isabella still laughing in her wake.

The door closed behind the pair. Ludwig gave him an even look. Arthur thought that he might have seen some hint of sympathy in the other man's expression. "That woman will be the death of you." Ludwig told him.

Arthur nodded mutely, unsure whether or not he hated her or wanted to see her again.

**Author's Note: Hi guys! I've realized that I keep forgetting to post Author Notes with these chapters, so here is my attempt at getting back to it. **

**So, how about that Arthur-Franciose kiss, huh? Some first meeting...poor Ally and Matt are probably regretting asking their dad for this story right about now….**

**And now you know who the blonde giant in the woods was! The awesome and amazing GERMANIA! Yeah, I know, I kinda made him sound like Germany, but while Luddy has his place here, it was not until this chapter. (And they aren't actually giants per se, they're just really tall and Arthur is a bit on the short side.) **

**And yes, Isabella is Fem!Spain. Please forgive me if any of her Spanish was off/grammatically incorrect. I have been taking Spanish for only six years and am still terrified of getting something wrong, so if anything was off, let me know and I will fix it!**

**Translations: **

**él es tan guapo, ?no? Pero, un parte de la cara de él es un poco raro…" : He is quite handsome, no? But, part of his face is a little strange…**

**mi corazón : my heart**

**hermanito : little brother (affectionate/friendly form of 'little brother') **

**que es esto : what is this?**

**Muy bien : very good **

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter; sorry it was so short, I promise the next one will be longer… and PLEASE REVIEW! I love to hear from you!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 3:**

**Royalty, Loyalty and Other Easily Preventable Disasters**

Arthur must have dozed off at some point while waiting for the king. He awoke slowly, brain fuzzy and confused as he tried to figure out where he was, what was going on, who was _singing_ and why it felt like someone was drawing on his face. Eyes drowsily flicking open, Arthur found himself nose to nose with a bearded, curly-haired man with huge brown eyes. Brown eyes that were currently very intently focused on scribbling on Arthur's face.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL!" Arthur yelped, jerking to his feet from where he had been seated, back against the wall.

"AHHHH! HE'S AWAKE!" the strange person yelped at the same time, hopping backward, balancing awkwardly on one foot and brandishing the pen he had been using like a sword. "BACK, BACK STRANGE CREATURE!"

"Since when am _I _a strange creature, you handsy, garlic-scented wanker?!" Arthur snarled, trying in vain to wave away the overpowering scent of garlic which had enveloped him and his strange new_… acquaintance_.

"Me? Are you referring to _me?_" The odd fellow sounded positively wounded, "I smell _wonderful, _like the kitchens at sunset, like the battlefield at dawn, like the bedroom at-"

"I DON'T WANT TO KNOW!" Arthur felt the need to cut this off before it derailed further into any more bizarre or potentially mind-scarring territory.

The man, who must have been the same age as Arthur's father, _pouted. _"You are positively no fun, boy. What is there to talk about among men but food, fighting, and women? Now, the queen of Axisium has a particularly hot body and no reservations about showing off that beautiful thing, if you know what I mean…"

_Just kill me now, _Arthur thought as he attempted to block out the sound of this odd, middle-aged man singing the praises of the queen of Arthur's homeland's physique. Unaware of his actions in his desperate need to remove the strange man's words from his mind, Arthur began humming 'God Save the Queen', his birthplace's national anthem.

The curly-haired bastard took this as encouragement, "I knew I'd found a comrade amongst men! That use of music to subtly underscore my point regarding her physical allure without over-committing to indecent praise, the dignity and perversity contained in those dulcet notes! I know! I should take up song-writing! I shall learn to play the ukulele and use it to serenade those dearest to my heart!"

Arthur began to desperately wonder where Ludwig had escaped to as the curly-haired bastard began to sing (incredibly off-tune) scales in front of him. He was just about to make a break for the door, king or no king, wacky old guy or no wacky old guy, when the door 'hidden' behind the thrones banged open. Arthur immediately froze in place. The old coot kept yodeling.

Folkert, the original blond giant from the woods, descended the stairs from the dais, Ludwig trotting in his wake. The elder blond giant's facial expression was positively murderous. If Arthur was feeling whimsical he would have said that a dark cloud hovered around the man, flowing behind him like a shadowy cloak interwoven with his cascade of silky blond hair. As it was, Arthur would have settled for saying that Folkert looked like he desperately wanted to impale someone and Arthur really, _really, _didn't want to be _that guy. _

But, Arthur soon realized, that icy blue gaze wasn't directed at him, it was boring into the back of the curly-haired bastard who still hadn't even bothered to turn around. Folkert slowed as he approached them until he stood mere centimeters away from the guy who had minutes earlier been scribbling on Arthur's snoozing face. Ludwig hovered somewhere behind his father. His expression, though stoic, seemed to contain a hint of long-suffering as well. When he met Arthur's gaze there was even the tiniest flicker of sympathy. It would seem that he and Ludwig had formed some sort of brotherhood-of-long-suffering-men bond during the hours they had been trapped in the throne room. Interesting.

Meanwhile, the curly-haired _singing _bastard was still flailing and bellowing snatches of melody, stopping every once and a while to chatter at a rather unresponsive Arthur. Finally, Arthur couldn't take the brunt of Folkert's icy anger-stare.

"Bloody hell," he muttered, "TURN AROUND YOU GIT!" he shouted at the singing man.

Curly-hair paused for a moment, blanking considering Arthur as if surprised that his captive audience had spoken. Slowly, he pivoted on a single heel, and faced the blond behind him. There was a moment of heavy silence, weighed down with palpable disapproval from Folkert and nonplussed nonchalance from the curly-haired singer. Finally, the one wielding the pen and the frightful voice flung his arms around the other with a cry of "Brother!"

Folkert rolled his eyes skyward, but his fury did seem to dim just a bit. He awkwardly patted the curly head, "Hello, Romulus. You slipped away from your guards again. You set a terrible example for your daughter. The princess grows more skilled at nefarious shenanigans every day."

"All for the best, all for the best, Folkert!" Romulus bellowed, slinging an arm aroundhis brother's shoulders, "Now, I seem to have run into this odd little creature snoozing in my throne room so I thought I'd decorate him, make him a much more interesting piece of art. You like?" He gestured broadly toward Arthur as if showing off a new painting or perhaps a new potted plant. Yes, a potted plant, a fern, something that is alive was isn't expected to do much more than sit there dumbly. That seemed to have been his lot in life his entire time in the palace, and he was heartily sick of it.

Gritting his teeth, he glowered furiously, "You drew on me and harassed me you bloody wanker."

"I did indeed," Romulus acknowledged with irreverent cheer, "And what fun we had at that."

"Romulus," Folkert sighed, "This is the new royal wizard. He is not a pet art project. No more drawing on him, do not _glue _anything _to_ him. We need him alive and moderately useful for something other than beautification."

"Huh," Romulus sounded surprised, he ran his hand across the generous stubble decorating his chin with an air of perplexed contemplation. "Then you must be Arthur Kirkland, and you're from Axisium. The queen is hot, isn't she?" he had the audacity to _wink _at that statement.

Arthur decided the response that involved the least amount of risk would be simply nodding dumbly. However, he couldn't resist the urge to add with a blank face and grim intonation, "God save the queen."

Romulus threw his head back and laughed. "You are wonderful, boy. Now, I'm King Romulus and you're going on this quest I need… questing. Yes, I think that's the word. Is that the word, Folkert? Questing? Yes, blank stare, always the best solution. Anywho, questing. You. Go."

Arthur knew that this was the King. That he needed to show deference, to bow at the very least, but he didn't feel like it. He had had a rough day and he wasn't ever sure what had gotten drawn on his face by this overgrown man-child. He narrowed his eyes like a cat and say, "Hell no."

"What?" Romulus looked honestly perplexed.

"I have no wish to go on a quest at this time, thank you." It took all Arthur had to keep his voice neutral as he spoke those words.

"You must go." Ludwig's steady, rumbling voice conveniently breaking the silence before it had much of a chance to build into something terrible.

"Why?" Romulus looked as confused as Arthur was feeling, "I order, he goes, I get that. Why's he got to go no matter what?"

Folkert cleared his throat, entire demeanor that of an elder statesman quite used to the chaos all around him. "He is not a native of our nation of Hetaliaonia. He is Axisian by birth. According to the documents he filled out when he entered our country as a fugitive wizard he agreed to provide his magical services 'whenever the land requires them the most'. And the land requires them now." Those blue eyes held absolutely no compromise.

"And what if I refuse?" Arthur decided to push his luck anyway, maybe the consequences weren't too terrible. A fine or something… he could manage a fine. He had stashes of gold all over the place from his pirate days.

The penalty was not a fine, "You will be deported. Back to Axisium," Folkert informed him, eyes cold and hard.

Back to Axisium. Where he was wanted for witchcraft. Where he had just barely escaped burning at the stake years before. Huh. That did not sound appealing. "Tell me about this quest," Arthur grouched.

Folkert did not smile, but somehow Arthur caught an intense aura of self-satisfaction emanating from the blond man. Ludwig just seemed uncomfortable. Romulus, or _King _Romulus as Arthur was surely supposed to call him, grinned broadly. "It's very exciting, lots of danger, you'll _love _it!"

Arthur was fairly sure he would not _love it. _

…..

The next morning, as Arthur waited outside the castle for his squire (who had apparently been assigned at random. Arthur was already not feeling particularly confident in this individual.) he reflected on how much he didn't like his quest.

The mission was simple. He was to ride to the northern provinces which had been plagued by a unknown monster for decades. Nearly fifty years previously the last baron of the area had sacrificed his humanity to keep the beast at bay. At night, when the creature had hunted, the baron had allowed himself to be transformed into a beast capable of beating back the monster. His personal wizard had continued to perform the spell diligently every night for several years. However, the wizard could not live indefinitely. He had died and the baron's transformation became permanent. No one knew what happened to the baron, but for decades either he or whatever offspring he had produced kept the beast docile. Now it was back to its old destructive tricks again and the King was sending a wizard to deal with the problem. It would seem that Arthur was the wizard selected for the task.

Lucky him.

He waited, twisting the horse's reins tighter and tighter around his hands, watching dispassionately as the blood drained from his fingers. Where the hell was his squire? A rattle at the gate had his head snapping up, his eyes trained on the gates to the main palace as they eased open, allowing not one, but two figures to pass through, leading horses.

"Hola, Señor Arthur Fuzzy-Brows!" A female voice rang out.

Arthur blinked at the woman who now stood at his stirrup. "What are you doing here?" he asked lamely.

She laughed, "I am here to make sure you don't get lost, niño. But shh," she made an elaborate shushing motion with her finger, "Este es un secreto grande. Es importante que tu no dices nada sobre mi aventura con tú."

Arthur rolled his eyes skyward, "Fine, you can come, but if you get yourself in danger, I'm not rescuing you. You're responsible for your own disasters."

Isabella smirked smugly. "Y, Señor Fuzzy-Brows?" she said, plucking at his sleeve and redirecting his attention at their third traveling companion. "That is your squire. He's very shy, pobre chico. Don't talk to him too much, you'll scare him."

Arthur nodded tersely. He did not appreciate this new nickname. But Isabella did seem to be right. The squire was hunched in on himself on his horse's back, cloak wrapped tightly around his narrow shoulders, his hood up as if to ward off unwelcome attention. Arthur sighed. This did not bode well for the lad's ability to do his job. But Arthur was a wizard, not a knight. He hadn't needed a squire before, and he wouldn't need one now. This was just extra fanfare from the King, who seemed rather fond of fanfare in all its forms.

Instead of further questioning the reclusive squire or the merrily chattering Isabella, Arthur kicked his horse into motion and headed off. Best to get this nightmare over and done with as soon as possible. That way he could just _go home. _

….

Arthur awoke the next morning to the smell of melting butter and the sizzle of food on a skillet. Blinking sleepily and wondering what the hell was going on, he propped himself up on an elbow, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Isabella was still wrapped up in her bedroll, he could just see the fluffy black pile of her hair attempting to escape the confines of her bedroll on the other side of the campfire. So, if Isabella was asleep, then who was cooking…?

Feeling somewhat cautious, Arthur rolled over, careful to ease himself into a sitting position slowly as not to draw attention from the chef with the skillet at the campfire. He had assumed that the mystery cook was his silent squire from the day before. The boy's bedroll was empty, after all, but the figure at the fire was clearly a woman. A _gorgeous _woman. And a familiar one.

"BLOODY HELL!" Arthur found himself yelping.

The woman shot him a look over her shoulder, brushing golden brown hair out of her violet eyes, "Silence yourself, it is far too early for you to be absurd or loud. And now you are being both."

Arthur found himself saying the first thing that came to his mind. "You're the princess."

She sniffed disdainfully, "Of course, can't you tell by my elegant poise and refinement of temper? Something _you _distinctly lack."

"You were my squire."

"Of course not. I was using your squire's horse and clothing. I never said I was your squire. Are you a complete idiot? I was sure you didn't taste like one yesterday."

Arthur, flushing scarlet at the thought of the kiss the day before, was about to demand that she allow him to escort her right back to the palace where she _belonged_ when the scent of whatever it was she was making hit him, closely followed by a wave of incredulity.

"You're cooking. With _butter. _Over a campfire."

"Of course, how else would I cook?" her tone of voice suggested that she was now thoroughly convinced that he was quite dense.

"Do you realize how impractical it is to haul that much butter all over the country?" he demanded.

She sniffed as if such practical concerns were no issue of _hers_. "Everything is better with butter."

Arthur ran a weary hand down his face. This was going to be a long trip.

**Author's Note: I'm back! Yes, King Romulus is Roman Empire. He was just too funny not to include. And a quick heads up to anyone who was hoping for some Nyo!Spain x Nyo!Belgium, there WILL be some of that in the future, as a side plot. The main pair will remain England x Nyo!France but I love SpaBel too, so it will come up in future chapters. **

**And I did steal the 'Everything is better with butter' line from Julia Child. She spent a good part of her life writing about French food, I think Francoise would agree with her opinions regarding butter's many wonderful properties, hence why she says it to poor overwhelmed Arthur. **

**Thanks for the reviews last chapter! It makes my day every time I see someone has reviewed (I really do care about what you guys have to say). Please keep reviewing, I still LOVE hearing from you all. See you next chapter! **


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 4:  
Arthur's Life as a Zoo Exhibit**

Arthur Kirkland was in a terrible mood. He hated villages. He hated villagers. He hated being put on display like some sort of exotic zoo animal by villagers in villages. This, in fact, was most likely where his newfound hatred of small townships had come from. Up until the past twenty-four hours he had been quite undecided on the subject. As of right now he was quite decidedly _against _them. Against them in what capacity he wasn't sure. However, he knew that it they did a poll or census regarded the matter at this very moment he would have quite a few choice words to say on the matter.

The irritating villagers were congregated in the village square, grumbling to each other about 'that funny-eye-browed foreigner'. Arthur would have been offended by their disparaging comments had he not been busy devoting all of his energy to overhearing whatever was being grumbled. No such luck, so far the only bits he could catch were about his eyebrows. Honestly, did these people not have time for _anything other than insulting people's facial hair? _

"You want to know what they are saying, da?" Arthur's cellmate asked in a disturbingly cheery voice.

The wizard snuck a glance at the other man trapped in this cage suspended from a tree in the middle of town square (apparently the villagers had read in a recent issue of _Imprisoning Weekly_ that the best way to keep an eye on potential escapees was to hang them from nearby foliage in full view of everyone's workplaces and homes. Arthur hated to admit it, but it was working. He hadn't been able to attempt escape yet.) The other man was a veritable giant, even giant-er than the colossal duo who had snatched him from his forest home over a week ago. Arthur was honestly surprised the other fellow's bulk in the tiny confines of the cage hadn't squished Arthur himself into a semi-liquid state, allowing the wizard to drip out of the metal contraption. The giant had a round, babyish face and a shock of unruly silver hair sprouting from the top of his head like the untamed fronds of a palm tree. His smile was pleasant enough, but there was something deeply disturbing about those violet eyes. Somehow, the childish smile perpetually plastered on the man's face did not allay Arthur's suspicions that there was something ever-so-slightly off about this man.

"Yes." Arthur chose to keep his answers short and terse, hoping to discourage conversation in favor of eavesdropping.

"It will all be the same as yesterday, da. Same stupid little men with their stupid little brains thinking stupid little thoughts. It is perhaps best not to think too much about it. Or you will start to wish you had your faucet pipe back, da? And start to dream about what color human brains are. Do you know what color human brains are, Mr. Fuzzy-Brows?"

Arthur gritted his teeth and resisted the urge to think violent thoughts. "Yes."

The giant clapped his hands, "Then we will be great friends, da? And you can tell me what color brains are. And we will be friends."

Arthur scooted a little closer to the opposite wall of the cage.

The giant prattled on about brains, Arthur tried and failed to overhear anything remotely useful, and the young wizard contemplated the events that led up to him sitting here, ten feet off the ground, trapped in a cage with a slightly-disturbed-in-the-head giant.

* * *

"Wake up, Artie." A vicious kick to his side jolted Arthur roughly out of sleep, sending him leaping to his feet, hands scrambling for a weapon in an essentially graceless and only marginally practical manner.

"What?" Arthur blinked sleep out of his eyes, having finally retrieved a sword and scanned the woods around him. It was still nighttime, moonlight filtering vaguely down on them as if it couldn't make up its mind as to whether or not they truly deserved to be able to see at this time of night.

"Shh," the woman who had kicked him hushed him. Francoise stood, silhouetted by the uncertain moonlight, her long, brown-sugar colored hair hanging down her back in a tangled mess as she held completely still, tense and silent in the night. As if she was waiting for something to happen. Something bad.

"Francoise-" Arthur began again, only to earn a second kick in the ribs.

"What did I tell you?" Francoise hissed.

Arthur staggered to his feet, glad that years of forest living had trained him in silent movement. He did not want more kicks from the vengeful princess. Once upright, he too froze, listening to the woods around them.

All he caught were the soft whispers of the wind tracing its meandering way through the trees, when suddenly all the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Electric rivers of power snapped their way down his limbs, pinching and twisting at his magical senses until he was left foggy-headed and bewildered. Just as he thought it was about to pass it rushed back, like a vengeful tide, sweeping down on him and slamming into his magical senses, leaving his ears ringing and his muscles twitching and spasming. It was only the years of training and skill at managing magical backwash that kept him upright and coherent. And just as suddenly as it was there, it was gone. Vanished. The whispering which Arthur had initially mistaken for the wind died and he and Francoise were left alone in the dark and quiet.

Arthur turned to the princess to make some comment, only to see that she had turned quite green. Within a second of the magical force leaving she was vomiting her dinner into a nearby bit of shrubbery. Meanwhile, Arthur stood around awkwardly and wondered what exactly one was supposed to do in this sort of situation. Not sure what else to say, he voiced the first thought that came to mind.

"At bit close to that bush for a first date, I'd say," he remarked before really thinking about it, "Typically you wait a bit before you let the wild side out."

Francoise produced a sound somewhere in the neighborhood of a cough-choke but also closely resembling a laugh, "And when are you such an expert, Fuzzy-Brows? The last I checked, you were the one blushing after I said hello."

Not knowing what else to do, Arthur defended his position, "Exactly what I'm talking about, you come on far too strong."

Francoise stood up, wiping her mouth and making a face, "And who do you think has done better in the romantic department, hmm? Fuzzy-Brows?"

Arthur shrugged, "I may as well say me. You'll mock me either way."

"Too true!" she exclaimed, "It is best to conceded defeat here, Fuzzy-Brows."

"I do not surrender," Arthur was pointing out when Isabella wandered into the camp.

"Oooh, did I come at a bad time?" It was impossible to miss the innuendo-laden tone to her voice.

"No," both Arthur and Francoise answered at the same time, glowering at each other when they realized they had spoken in tandem.

Isabella looked disappointed. "Fine then, be boring," she pouted playfully.

Francoise made small choking noise, "As if I would be taken with this…" she made a wild hand gesture at Arthur, "_person._"

"The feeling is mutual, princess," Arthur sniped stiffly.

Isabella sighed and made a dramatic motion with her hands, "Fine, then, can one of you at least tell me what _that _was that I felt on my way back to camp from my bathroom break?"

Arthur hastened to explain, "That was magical backwash. The left-over physic remains from a spell. A _good_ magic-user or at least a fairly competent one knows how to contain it. Obviously this one is either terrible at the craft, wants to hurt himself and random bystanders or is just too stupid to attempt something as intricate as magic."

Francoise sighed, attempting to get her hair under control. "We will have to go to the village tomorrow."

"Why?" Arthur demanded, even as Isabella was nodding un-verbalized agreement.

Francoise got a haughty look on her face, "They are my people," she declared in lieu of an explanation and one again snuggled into her bedroll, rolling over so her back was to Arthur.

Isabella took pity on Arthur and explained, "She is of the royal family. If there is any threat to citizens of the kingdom nearby they must do all in their power to protect the people. Some rulers take it more seriously than others. Francoise's family is very serious about it."

Arthur nodded understanding and returned to his own bedroll.

* * *

"WITCH!"

Somehow, when he was planning out his day in advance, Arthur had not factored the crazy-eyed farmer currently assaulting him with a pitchfork into his own personal how-to-spend-my-day-equation. The young wizard had been strolling through the forest, following the trail of power to wherever its source was several hours before. Now he was being flying-tackled by a man covered in far too much plaid for Arthur Kirkland's comfort.

Reacting on instinct, Arthur sketched a basic rune into the air, muttered a word of power and threw the fellow off. The fellow, now firmly settled on the ground, began to caterwaul.

"WITCH! DEMON! CHANGELING IN HUMAN FLESH! WIIITTTCCCHHHH!"

Francoise, who had been a few yards ahead of them as they trudged through the woods in search of the magic's source, came crashing back through the forest to see the source of the racket. It was a good thing they had elected Isabella as their official spokesperson for chatting with the villagers as she was local (unlike Arthur) and _not_ a royal who was not supposed to be on holiday (unlike Francoise).

"Artie, what the hell-?" she began, but was soon cut off by the man's wailing.

"ANOTHER WITCH! MAY ALL THE POWERS HAVE MERCY ON MY POOR FLESH!"

Francoise jumped back slightly, "Is he supposed to do that, do you suppose?" she asked Arthur, face open and slightly bemused. It was often easy for Arthur to forget how sheltered she had been, and moments like these where he was forcibly reminded of her naiveté always sat oddly with him.

"No," Arthur explained. From far off he could hear the sound of tromping feet and more shouting. The word 'witch' was mentioned more than once. Arthur turned and, unthinking, grabbed Francoise's hand. "Now is the time where we run like hell."

She nodded, "Indeed, I do think a witch-burning would be horrid for my complexion."

"Keep thinking like that, princess, and we might just survived," Arthur laughed, and they took off running, fingers knotted together.

Several hours and several close calls later, they were cornered. Arthur looked at Francoise; she sat beside him, back to the fallen tree they were hiding behind. Both of them were gasping for breath, but Francoise was practically wheezing.

"The beautiful never were meant for dangerous situations," she joked half-heartedly.

"Your cruelty wounds me, fair maiden," Arthur responded acidly, the edge dulled by his own panting.

"We aren't going to lose these tasteless fellows, are we?" Francoise sighed.

"Most likely not," Arthur responded awkwardly.

"Hmm," she hummed, with thought or with the overwhelming need for oxygen he wasn't sure. "They seem to resent witches," she commented wryly. "Whoever's casting those spells is a dead man if they get him."

"Small-minded gobshites," Arthur snarled, groaning at the sound of their pursuers fast approaching. "We should split up," he declared. "If they catch you, your identity will protect you."

"If they catch you, you'll magic yourself out," Francoise pointed out. She huffed irritably, "It is an atrocious plan."

"Only because you didn't think of it," Arthur said, rankling at her tone.

"It. Is. An. ATROCIOUS. Plan." Franciose enunciated each word clearly.

Arthur glared at her indignantly, recognizing a brewing argument when he saw one. No use fighting this one out, he decided. In one motion he was on his feet and running off, tossing off a few small spells to confuse pursuers (including the tenacious Francoise). He circled back around the disgruntled villagers, throwing pinecones and rocks at them until they began racing after him instead of toward the log where he had left Francoise.

When asked later Arthur would not be able to tell anyone exactly why he had felt the need to protect the princess. From the beginning of their journey she had been a nuisance. Her demands were constant, she always needed something or wanted something, or had a bit of wisdom to impart in the form of some sort of verbal barb that only began to sting after it was a few seconds too late to snap something back. But he protected her. And when his spells ran out of power he was trussed up like a hog and tossed in a cage in a village square next to the world's creepiest giant.

Life was incredibly unfair sometimes.

**Author's Note: What can I say? It's been far too long since I last updated this. My only excuse is the holiday season hit and with it all the prerequisite crazy-busy-ness. But rest assured I do have a direction and a plan with this, it's not just random. I promise. **

** Yes, the giant in the cage with Arthur is Russia. I wanted Ivan in the story in a non-villain role because, while he's creepy, I like him better as the creepy good guy that has the rest of the good guys thinking 'and how is he on our side…?' Guys like him keep the hero-types humble. **

** PLEASE REVIEW! I READ ALL REVIEWS AND LOVE THEM ALL! **

** See ya next chapter! **


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